“Here, get her to put on you wristband,” the guard at the gate said, indicating another employee, “she’ll do it.”
I looked at the pair with merriment, then amused, perhaps that should bemused, I mean, add their ages together, and I’m probably still older, at least chronologically. Fear not, emotionally, I’m still pretty immature. And that’s on a good day. I asked why the wristband, and I was told, “It’s a ‘barely 21’ crowd.”
A Scorpio cop was working, and I asked if it was good crowd, and if he’d seen Fowler before.
“First time I heard the Willie song, I almost fell over from laughing so hard,” he said. He further estimated that it was a decent crowd, not too much trouble.
Set List for the Kevin Fowler show, Floores Country Store, Helotes, TX, Saturday night:
1. Loud Loose and Crazy
2. Speak of the Devil (crowd goes wild)
3. Senorita Mas Fina (crowd goes wild)
4. (she’s my little) Butterbean
5. Try Anything Twice
6. Lord loves a drinkin’ man
7. Triple Crown
8. Bring it on (unreleased)
9. Hard man to love
10. (CDB tune)
11. J.O.B.
12. Sweet Child of Mine -> Next girl in line
13. 100% Texan (crowd goes ape shit)
14. Devil Went down to GA
15. Long way to freedom (unreleased – Waylon homage)
16. Don”t touch my Willie
17. Ain’t drinkin’ any more (ain’t drinkin’ any less)
Break – crowd chants “Kevin Fuckin’ Fowler!” – encore:
Beer, Bait & Ammo
Closed with “Fat Bottom Girls” – from High on the Hog
Show opened with some guy, wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t paying attention, either, and then some jock introduced Kevin Fowler, and KF came on with a strong bass thumping, and that was a rock and roll noise, that opening bass line. But make no mistake, this isn’t Southern Rock, it isn’t traditional Country and Western, it’s just that blend of Texas Country with sprinkling of rock influences. Like that opening bass line. It’s more than fiddle and pedal steel, too. Rowdy, roadhouse music. Bawdy, perhaps not very politically correct, but what’s life without a little lack of mental sanitation? It’s about drinking too much and having a little too much fun. And women who break hearts. Can’t ever forget that part. Which is why the lord loves a dinking man, as the song suggests.
A couple of weeks ago, I read this review of a Kevin Fowler show at some place in Dallas.
“Let me embrace thee, sour adversity,
For wise men say it is the wisest course.”
Shakespeare’s King Henry VI, part iii (III.i.27-8)
Ft. Worth seems to be flush with boomtown money, last I heard, and I haven’t been there in close to a year, so I can’t really comment. But the last time I was there, I worked at a metaphysical expo, in the same hall – at the same time – as a gun show. Sets a tone, now doesn’t it?
Last time I was in Dallas, I verified that the coffee place was still there, and I’ll suggest that the coffee in that one location is easily the best espresso between Milan and Seattle, and as a Texas Native, I’d tend to favor the location. Don’t forget what Willis Alan Ramsey sang about Texas Women, and a refrain for Northeast Texas Women.
Jimmie Dale wrote a song about Dallas. Joe Ely sings it. As do the Flatlanders (which includes Jimmie Dale and Joe Ely, but at this point, it gets reductive.)
“Dallas is like a rich man with a death wish in his eye”
A few years ago, I saw the great Joe Ely on stage in Ft. Worth. Good show. Part of his stage banter included slagging Dallas for having no soul. With the aforementioned coffee shop, though, I was wondering if Dallas was developing some soul. And as far as burgers go, for my dollars, there is one place that still has what it takes to be the best. And kick-butt cheese fries.
A week of Mondays ago, over BBQ, I pondered this with Bubba, and that Kevin Fowler review, and I asked the usual rhetorical questions. Bubba is a great Texan Native, and he’s seen most of these guys live. Several times. Kevin Fowler is nothing more than a brawling honky-tonk performer. In places like the legendary Billy-Bob’s, or in Austin’s Broken Spoke, KF fits. Perfect fit. His music is not refined. It sort of rocks, but it also has a definite twang component. Roadhouse music. Driving music. Ah, c’mon, anyone with an album called Beer, Bait & Ammo? What can be expected?
I spoke with Kevin Fowler, once in a social setting, when he was being a daddy and not being a star. He liked how the baby-stroller he was pushing, presumably with his child, had a beer-holder built in. Might be a clue. His mic stand has a beer holder, too.
Last time I saw him, the audience, predominately young anglo in western attire, knew the words to most of the songs. But that wasn’t in a refined, rarefied atmosphere like Dallas.
Driving a car into Dallas, either coming up from Austin on I-35 or headed east from Ft. Worth on the old turnpike (I-20, now, I think), the Dallas skyline never fails to inspire awe, glittering buildings, reaching towards an East Texas sky, planes overhead, the State Fair, the nightlife. But then, on foot in Dallas, the town seems to have no soul. Like Joe Ely suggested.
I noted that most of the (whatever genre) of local music I like? Those groups and artists tend to shun Dallas. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence.
Or maybe it’s something else. Dallas is urbane. The rest of Texas is a little uncouth. I’m not complaining, just observing. C & C, Live at Billy Bob’s.
Yeah, pour me another cup of coffee,
For it is the best in the land.
I’ll put a quarter in the jukebox,
And play “The Truck Drivin’ Man.”I climbed back aboard my old semi,
And then like a flash I was gone.
I got all them big wheels a-rollin’.
Now I’m on my way to San Antone.Written by Terry Fell, (c) Cross Music.
(click to visit)
Loquacious footnote:
It was some years ago, and I’m sure I wrote about it then, but the Derailers and Asleep at the Wheel were opening for an afternoon Travis Tritt concert, here in the park. I wandered over, cashed in a backstage pass, or paid admission, it’s lost now, but I really just wanted to see the opening acts and I didn’t care about the headliner.
“Oh no, you watch, trailer parks all around will empty out for this show,” that Virgo girl suggested.
Which they did. I had on shorts and a straw, and that Kevin Fowler T-shirt, the one with the Deer on the front. A great number of folks openly admired it. Guess they weren’t used to us city folks being okay.
And another loquacious footnote:
I’m not suggesting that Dallas has no soul. To be fair, driving in from West Texas one evening, I flipped over to the Dallas-Ft. Worth radio, to break the monotony of the road, and I found a radio station that was playing local music. So good, in fact, that I wound up buying a CD of some music. And got a chance to go see a show. In Ft. Worth, though.
Came up again, over another plate of tacos, the other evening. It was a client in the midst of picking a new destination, trying to make a move in life, a little “location astrology,” if you will, and I do.
We laughed about it, I did suggest Dallas, San Antonio, and so forth. As the client pointed out, even if those were acceptable location from a business point of view, it was duly noted that I don’t live either place. Visit? Sure.
At Saturday’s show, I noticed three – or more – cow skull tattoos. One on a lady, across a shoulder, and several more on various cowboy-looking fellers, Yeah, I’m sure it’s a a local phenomena, but who would use a dead cow skull as an ornament?
